The demons of discontent,
Swirl about my mind,
Twisting it into knots,
Keeping it from unwinding.
They tease and taunt,
Beckoning forth chaos,
And uncomfortable conclusions.
They take impish delight,
In the swarms of conflicting thoughts.
Thus a goal must be found,
To brush away the infernal,
When they come to distract.
For when I have something to grasp,
It becomes easier to ignore,
The way they skitter through my mind,
And give out the call of the void.
So I stride forth,
In search of the next clearing,
And of temporary respite.
unknownclimate 